Harlem Shakes, Technicolor Health (Exclusive Bonus Version)

After four years of suffering the cruelest fits and starts of the indie circuit, from the false assurances of blog hype to near-catastrophic sickness and studio disaster, Brooklynites Harlem Shakes have emerged with an indomitable debut, a record full of the kind of poignant, sharp-tongued optimism that can only be developed through hardship.

Though the Spector-esque grandeur of the group's EP has given way to a more percussive sound, with electronic and Latin rhythms being the main additions, there's still the unmistakable whiff of AM Gold here — a lo-fi/hi-fi sweet spot that effortlessly expands and contracts to include clamoring sing-alongs, liquid keys and brittle jangles of guitar. It's the tension in Benaim's remarkable voice, the easy gait of his boyish tenor, that gives his words an effortless drawl and his nasal falsetto lifts and pinches his phrases into breathless pleas.

The album is heavy with the weariness of the city, with all its quick quips and ironic t-shirts, and powered by a deep longing for the simple, silent power of nature. Fortunately, the lyrics never get hamfisted or preachy, and their genius lies in their ambiguity — the anxious hope of "Nothing But Change Part II" could be about either Obama or a new girlfriend. "Radio Orlando" is the best song about touring malaise since the Kinks "This Time Tomorrow," and "Niagara Falls," all honky-tonk folk and Simon and Garfunkel harmonies, deserves to soundtrack the driving montage for this generation's The Graduate.

Throughout, Benaim proves adept at re-wrapping worn platitudes with an honest wit that feels just right for our recession-battered egos: "Take a lot of shit/feel real bad and get over it," he sings on "Strictly Game" before promising, "This will be a better year." And, at least as far as the Shakes are concerned, there's no doubt he's right.